The Sound of Fireworks
by Adrianna-Rossetti
Summary: "There was no response, just a rough grab on her arm as she was practically being dragged away. She didn't know where she was being taken to, and a flutter of fear blossomed in her stomach."


**Hey guys, it's been so long since I've posted anything! Thanks for reading!**

**Warning: Mentions of a date drug, attempted rape. May be triggering.**

Miranda looked around the room with a disinterested smile on her face. She always hated these functions. This one was particularly tiresome, as there was not a single honest soul in the room. They were all fake. They all wanted something from her, and didn't care how low they had to stoop to achieve what they desired. For a second, Miranda had a flashback of when _she_ was still there. With her large brown eyes and almost comical naivety. She always saw the best in people, and she was the only person who hadn't used the powerful Editor to get what she wanted. Gritting her teeth slightly, Miranda pushed the images of long chocolate locks away and tried to keep her anger and confusion under control. Andrea had _left_ her. Walked away without another look and abandoned her in the middle of her busiest time of the year. She had needed the brunette.

"Artie Mattheson," her assistant whispered in her ear, shaking Miranda out of her musings. "New York Mirror photographer."

A well-dressed man stepped forward and nodded his head respectfully at the Editor. It was refreshing to see that the man didn't quiver in front of her, but Miranda gave him a cold look when her assistant said his place of occupation.

"The Mirror?" she said quietly.

"Yes Miranda," he responded, and for a second, Miranda wondered how he knew to address her. Then she internally rolled her eyes. Of course, Andrea would have briefed him beforehand.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Pictures please," he responded. "It will go in our Entertainment section of tomorrow's Post."

A small crowd had gathered around them, and curious, somewhat-frightened eyes watched the two interact. Many believed the idiotic photographer would be fired from inquiring the unapproachable Editor and watched with bated breaths.

Miranda looked at him with hard eyes, and he met her stare unflinchingly. "Fine," she waved her hand after what seemed like hours. "Stay out of my way."

"Yes Miranda. Thank you." Artie waited until she glided away, out of earshot, before he let out an incredible sigh of relief. His heart was pounding and his stomach felt nauseous since he had clenched it tightly from nerves. There was murmuring around him and pointed stares from nosy people, and Artie discreetly wiped his brow with a handkerchief before weaving his way through the crowd to find the silver-haired Editor once more.

* * *

Why had she granted that boy to take photos of her? Miranda unconsciously pursed her lips slightly. He had kept his word and stayed his distance, the only sign of him being the 'click' of the camera every now and then, but Miranda was irritated. The reason all came back to Andrea. Miranda knew that she had let the photographer take her photo only because she knew it would help the brunette's job by giving the ratty newspaper its month of fame. Secretly, she also hoped Andrea would see the photographs, but the worst part was, she didn't know why. Why would she care what the writer thought about her? Why would she want the brunette to look at her picture after three years of not contacting the younger woman once? And _why_, Miranda pursed her lips even further, was the idea of Andrea Sachs bothering her so much?

"Nicolas Varves," the assistant whispered. "Designer."

"Miranda!" he exclaimed in a false tone and opened his arms.

She took a small step back and smiled politely at him. "Nicolas. How nice of you to come to this little gathering."

"Si, si," he responded, clasping her hand firmly in his and shaking. "This is a marvelous party." His eyes turned to the stick-thin assistant beside the Editor, and eyed her up and down. "And who might you be?"

"Oh, um," the girl giggled, making Miranda feel nauseous, and responded, "Margaret, but everybody calls me Meg."

"Will you go get us some drinks Meg?" Nicolas smiled at her, and the assistant nodded furiously, blushing a bright red before scampering off.

"That was atrocious."

"Her behavior or mine?" Nicolas smiled cheekily.

"Both," Miranda replied dryly.

"Excuse me," Artie stepped up towards the two and discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on the back of his pants.

Miranda gave him a withering glare.

"Thank you for the pictures, but I must get going now," he said quickly. Suddenly, his phone went off, and flushing, he grabbed it and muted it. "I apologize. Family emergency."

"Who are you?" Nicolas sniffed.

"Reporter for New York Mirror," Artie said and turned his attention back to Miranda. "I'm really sorry-my kid just threw up, and-"

"You've said what you needed to, now be gone," Nicolas flicked his fingers as if he was flicking away a bug.

Artie straightened, and said in a strained voice, "Thank you for the opportunity Miranda. Have a nice evening." He turned away and hurried to the exit.

Nicolas watched him with a small sneer on his face. "Pitiful man."

Miranda said nothing. Soon, Meg appeared with two drinks in her hands and beamed cheerfully at Nicolas. He took them both and then whispered something in her ear. Her face lit up, making Miranda want to crush the annoying look, and she scampered away.

"What did you say to her?" Miranda reached for the glass, but Nicolas held them closer to himself.

"Ah, nothing. Just mentioned a little present she should receive from one of my bodyguards for so kindly getting us our drinks," Nicolas shook his head slightly and then looked out the window. "The fireworks are starting." Miranda turned her head to the lavish display and shook her head slightly. "Garish display, don't you think?" he whispered and handed her the glass.

"Quite," Miranda rolled her eyes and sipped at her drink. "I don't think Mr. Donalds would appreciate all this…gaudiness. This…this..."

"This what?" Nicolas grabbed her glass and set it behind him.

"This…display…" Miranda put a hand to her forehead and swayed slightly. "It's…"

"Here, let me help you," he wrapped his arm around her thin frame and led her to a back door. Looking around once, he smirked as he shut the door, confident that the fireworks held everybody's attention.

Miranda felt the warm summer air hit her face and was confused. Wasn't she just inside? The sound of fireworks bombed in her foggy ears, making her head pound.

"Wh-whath's happening to me?" she slurred. "Where am I?"

There was no response, just a rough grab on her arm as she was practically being dragged away. She didn't know where she was being taken to, and a flutter of fear blossomed in her stomach.

"Let me go," she struggled weakly.

She was thrown down on the hard pavement, Prada dress ripping on the way, and she cried out at the pain in her palms.

"Oh I have no intention of doing that," Nicolas grabbed her shoulder and leaned in, his eyes blazing into her murky blue ones. "You ruined my life Miranda. And now you must pay."

* * *

Andy was having a wonderful evening. Her best friends had forgiven her for breaking up with Nate, and for the whole weirdness with Miranda. She shook her head slightly at the thought of the white-haired Editor. That woman had almost been the death of her.

"Hey Andy, can I have a bite of your dessert?" Lily asked.

Doug reached over and scooped some up with his fork without asking and Andy laughed.

"Of course Lily," she smiled. "Thank you for _asking_ before you just took."

Doug shrugged. "We're best friends. I thought I didn't have to ask."

"It would still be polite!" Lily hissed back.

"Polite-schmite. Andy gets me-she doesn't need me to ask her for _everything_. Plus, her dessert is huge!"

Andy shook her head at the sight of Lily and Doug bickering back and forth like children.

"Guys, seriously. Stop fighting over my dessert!" she laughed. "Honestly, just take some. I don't care."

"Thanks Andy," Lily said peevishly, still looking at Doug with narrowed eyes. "At least somebody has some table manners."

"Oh don't even start!" Doug waved her chocolate cake around on his fork as he spoke.

Andrea sighed and took a swig of wine as the playful fighting commenced once more.

* * *

"Wh-wha?" Miranda tried to speak but couldn't. She blinked slowly and stared into black eyes.

"I had potential," Nicolas shook his head and dug his fingernails into the soft skin of her shoulder. "You gave me _one_ fucking pursing of the lips, and my career was over. Just like that. After ONE."

Miranda's head lolled back as she tried to make sense of the man's words. It was hard to think. Another firework went off and she internally winced at the loud sound.

"Your opinion is the only one that matters," Nicolas said softly and then gripped her hair tightly in his fist, reveling in her soft cry of pain. He jerked her head back up so he was staring into her eyes. "I lost everything. I was fired, and I had no means of money to continue my designs. I would have died before working as anything but a designer. It's my passion-my life, and you took it away from me. And for what? Your fucking opinion."

Miranda's hazy mind tried to remember. Vaguely, a floating image of a horrid cheetah-print dress entered her mind, and she smirked as best as she could at him.

"Bad."

Nicolas' eyes darkened even further and he trembled with rage. Digging his blunt fingernails into the tender flesh of her shoulders, he pushed her harshly back on the ground, laughing when her shoulders hit the pavement hard. Stalking forward, he growled his anger and rage he felt toward the woman before stopping abruptly. Closing his eyes, he counted slowly to thirty in Italian and reminded himself that he would soon get his revenge. He smiled gradually, taking his time to open his eyes up again.

A flicker of fear pierced through Miranda's muddled senses as she saw his terrifying grin, and her lids felt heavy as she blinked. "Help…Help," she tried to yell, but it came out as a raspy whisper no louder than a breeze.

"None of that now Miranda," he placed his pointer finger on her thin lips.

She ignored him and tried to call for help again.

"Quiet," he gently stroked her iconic hair. "Everything is going to be fine."

Miranda's inhalations began to slow, making it hard for her to breathe. Panic seeped into her brain as she fought for breath, and she looked at him with scared eyes.

"Having troubles breathing?" Nicolas sneered. "I'm glad."

Taking raspy, quick breaths, she stared at him with murky, but murderous eyes.

"Not so powerful now are you?" he laughed. "I think it's time you gave me a fucking head nod for all my hard work!"

He gripped the back of her head and jerked it back and forth. The movement caused Miranda's head to pound even more, and before she knew what was happening, she vomited.

"Oh shit!" Nicolas yelled and pushed her away. She wavered, and fell back down to the hard cement. "Damn it!"

Miranda's eyes stared up at the fiery evening sky, trying to focus on anything but the sounds of her own ragged breathing and the cursing from the man who had dragged her here. Lights flashed across the heavens, and Miranda vaguely placed the bright colors with fireworks. Why would there be fireworks though? Her memories were fuzzy. Suddenly, his face came back in her view, and his fist collided with her cheek. "You little whore." Miranda felt tears in her eyes, but couldn't make a sound other than a small whimper. "We're going to have a lot of fun." Then his lips were on hers, and his palms were roughly kneading her breasts. She couldn't breathe, and tried to get away, but her struggles were futile and sluggish. He broke the contact and grinned madly down at her. Finally, he had Miranda Priestly right where he wanted her.

* * *

Andrea giggled, feeling a little tipsy as she leant on a laughing Lily.

"And then Joe says, 'Why the hell not? I ate the other stuff you fed me!'" Doug finished his story and the three friends roared with laughter.

Wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes, Andy smiled at Doug.

"That was great," she said, still laughing. She stared up and smiled when she saw fireworks light up the sky. The booming sound echoed seconds later, and Andrea creased her brow slightly. "I hope Artie's holding up in there."

"Same here. You kind of threw him to the wolves," Lily laughed and looked at her watch. "Hey, you guys want something sweet to eat? The night's still young. It's only 10:30."

"Sure," Andrea shrugged.

"I'm always up for ice-cream!" Doug grinned.

Andrea giggled and continued walking. Suddenly, her steps faltered as she took in the scene across the street. A female form was laying prostrate on the hard ground while a dark shadow was on top of her. There weren't any noises being made, but Andy could tell it was nonconsensual. The woman looked like she was dead. She took off at a sprint, racing towards the figures.

"Andy!" Doug shouted.

"Where are you going girl?" Lily called.

Andrea ignored both of their shouts. She would recognize that white hair anywhere.

* * *

"You like that?"

Something hard pressed into the soft skin of her thigh, and Miranda tried yet again to unsuccessfully pull away. Her struggles were fading though, the drug quickly taking more control over her body. Eyelashes fluttering, Miranda took another deep breath before it was stolen by another forceful kiss. Her lungs burned, and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. All of a sudden, the oppressive weight was gone, and she could finally breathe again. Greedily sucking air in her lungs, she strained to get a clue as to what was going on. The drug made it difficult for Miranda to understand anything though. Her labored breathing and faint booming noises echoed harshly in her eardrums, making her feel vulnerable and scared.

Warm arms wrapped themselves around Miranda's torso, gently lifting her up and resting her head on something soft. An arm wound around itself back around her stomach while another arm tucked under the back of her neck, cradling her head. Struggling again, Miranda tried to get away from her attacker. _No more pain. _A faint buzzing noise echoed in her ears, and Miranda strained to hear it. It was trying to tell her something. Vaguely, she could make it out.

"Shh, Miranda, you're safe. Oh God, you're safe now."

While she could hear the words, she didn't understand what the voice was _saying_. It didn't matter though. The voice was soothing and beautiful. Not scary and loud like the man's was. Something warm and wet fell on her forehead, and Miranda blinked hard, finding herself looking up into brown eyes filled with tears. The eyes…they looked familiar somehow. A loud boom echoed, making the Editor flinch internally, but the calming voice continued, helping relax the drugged woman. A flash of blue and white light lit up the sky and Miranda's hazy brain made out that she was laying in somebody's lap with her head resting on a strong shoulder.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you. You're going to be ok Miranda. Don't worry. I'm here, and I'm never leaving again."

The voice soothed her, and Miranda took another deep, ragged breath.

"In and out. Easy now."

Miranda exhaled and her eyelashes closed briefly, making her panic when she realized she had lost her lifeline. Frantically searching for the brown eyes again, she struggled to breathe. There they were. Staring down at her with compassion and love, they pierced through the haziness. "A-Ann…"

"Shh," Andrea placed a gentle kiss on Miranda's forehead. "Don't try to speak. You're safe now."

Miranda believed the voice. The sound of fireworks slowly died away as she allowed herself to relax in safe arms. Searching one last time for the beautiful eyes, Miranda finally succumbed to the drug, and let her heavy eyelids drop closed, the memory of the brown, doe eyes implanted firmly in her memory.

* * *

Miranda awoke with a slight gasp. Immediately after opening her eyes, she slammed the lids down again when the harsh light pierced her retinas. Head throbbing, Miranda gingerly reached up to massage her forehead and winced when there was a shooting pain in both her palms and her shoulder. What the hell happened? She must have had too much to drink. This was the worst hangover she'd ever had. Forcing herself to open a bleary eye, Miranda blinked slowly to adjust to the light. When her eyesight cleared, she let out a gasp at the sight before her. Andrea Sachs was curled up in a stiff armchair next to her bed. The small noise awoke the light sleeper, and the brunette immediately shot up and was by Miranda's side in an instant. She kneeled down next to the Editor and looked at her with teary eyes.

"Miranda," she breathed out and reached out her hand, immediately looking hurt when the Editor instinctively flinched away. She pulled her hand back and looked at Miranda with compassion shining in her brown eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Miranda cleared her throat and winced when the motion hurt. "Where am I?"

Andrea rushed up and grabbed a cup of ice chips on the bedside table before returning to Miranda's side. She held the spoon in her right hand and proceeded to scoop some chips up before holding it out in front of Miranda's mouth expectantly.

The Editor's eyes turned glacial and she hissed, "Do you need to get your eyesight checked Andrea? Have I suddenly turned into a toddler?"

"N-no," the brunette stammered. "I apologize. I thought that with your hands," she gestured to the heavily bandaged appendages, "you might need help."

Miranda looked at her own hands as if seeing them for the first time. She hadn't even realized they were covered with thick gauze. "I'm sure I can manage," she spit out and reached for the cup, ignoring the stabbing pain in her palm.

"Right," Andrea muttered and handed the ice to her former boss.

Miranda bit back a cry when the cup jostled her tender flesh, and almost dropped it back on the bed. Andrea watched silently, knowing that she would be verbally abused if she tried to help. Steeling herself, Miranda gingerly picked up the spoon and tears sprung in her eyes as she tried to do the simple task of getting ice chips in her mouth. Her shoulders were killing her, and her palms were stinging beyond belief. Suddenly, her injured hands were freed of the cup, and the spoon was gently pulled from her grasp. The Editor looked up into brown eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and understanding.

"Here," Andrea said gently and stood up by the bed. She copied her motions from earlier-scooping up the ice chips and putting them on the spoon. Holding the spoon in front of the proud mouth, Andrea patiently waited until Miranda parted her lips and sucked the ice off the silver utensil quickly. The ice felt good on the older woman's throat, and she rolled it around in her mouth.

"The doctors told me you could have water, but I knew you would want Pellegrino," Andrea said somewhat shyly, "so I took the liberty of sending my friend Doug to the store to buy some. I thought ice chips might be a nice substitution until he returns."

Miranda nodded at the thoughtfulness, but stayed silent. Swallowing the last of the ice chips, she was surprised to find another scoop waiting in front of her mouth. As she parted her lips again, she marveled in the feeling she had missed in Andrea's absence all those months. The brunette genuinely seemed to care about her, and always seemed to know what she wanted and what she didn't. Feeling self-conscious, she straightened her posture and pierced her former assistant with a glare.

"Why am I in the hospital Andrea?" Miranda asked again.

Andrea's eyes filled with tears again and she kneeled by the bedside again. Letting out a deep breath, she decided to put it clearly and precisely. "You were drugged last night Miranda."

A shocked gasp left the usually controlled Editor, and she stared at her former assistant in horror. "Drugged?"

"Yes," Andrea nodded sadly. "There was a party for a Mr. Donalds' retirement last night. He's been a huge member of the fashion community, and you made an appearance. From what I can gather from other people's stories as well as your assistant's, there was a man named Nicolas Varves who approached you. He sent Meg to fetch some drinks. After she returned with the glasses, he told her his guard had a surprise for her. The surprise turned out to be a beating…she was found hours later in an empty closet, barely conscious," Andrea's tears overflowed. "She survived, but she's in critical condition and she's scared out of her mind. I sent my other friend, Lily, to comfort her, so hopefully she will be able to help the poor girl."

Miranda began to tremble. "My God," she whispered.

Andrea reached out and placed a comforting hand on Miranda's bare arm. The older woman stiffened, but soon relaxed at the gentle contact.

"While Meg was experiencing…those horrors," Andrea continued in a soft tone, "you were experiencing your own. The security camera footage shows Nicolas slipping something in your drink while you're looking outside at the fireworks that were going off in Mr. Donalds' honor. He grabbed your arm and led you outside using a backdoor entrance. Nobody noticed because they were engrossed in the display outside the windows. I don't know what happened next because there weren't security cameras in the area where he dragged you to." Andrea visibly shuddered at the thought and her eyes turned angry as she said, "I have no idea what he did to you."

Miranda looked forward, avoiding the young woman's eyes and sat quietly, absorbing everything she had said. The gentle pressure on her arm from Andrea's soft hand was comforting, and she turned her head back to face the brunette.

"You can't be comfortable down there," Miranda jerked her chin, indicating that the other woman climb up on the bed.

Andrea relinquished her hold on the Editor's arm and scrambled to her feet to sit on the edge of the bed, not daring to sit any closer for fear of spooking the other woman. With uncharacteristically soft eyes, Miranda reached out and placed Andrea's hand back on her forearm. The writer's eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely giving the injured fashion maverick a gentle squeeze.

"Where do you come into this Andrea?" Miranda tilted her head slightly.

"I was walking across the street with Lily and Doug-we had just come back from a night out, and I saw you and that…_monster_ in the alleyway," Andrea began to shake slightly with anger. "I yelled at him to get off of you, which admittedly wasn't the smartest idea, and the asshole immediately tried to run away. The coward. Doug was faster though, and he punched him in the face before tackling him. Lily called 911 while I-" she broke off, slightly flushed.

"You what?" Miranda questioned.

"Um, it's not important," Andrea blushed deeper and avoided the older woman's gaze.

"Andrea," Miranda said in the tone that always made the writer's knees weak.

She looked up into soft eyes that were a little bloodshot around the edges. Despite the red marks, the blue was still clear and beautiful. "Tell me," Miranda whispered and leaned closer. Andrea leaned her body closer as well and licked her dry lips. Her eyes dropped to pale pink lips, before flickering back up to blue orbs.

"It's not important," Andrea said softly and began running her palm soothingly up and down Miranda's arm. "I-"

The door banged open, making the women jump apart quickly, their faces still flushed as they avoided looking at each other.

"Hi Doug," Andrea squeaked when she saw one of her best friends.

"Um, hi," Doug's eyes flicked back and forth between the two women, and felt his heart sink when he realized he probably just interrupted a very important moment. The tension was thick, and he weakly held up the bottles of Pellegrino in the air. "Water?"

"I should go call the doctor," Andrea hopped up off the bed and walked over to the door. "I'll be right back."

She swept out the door, leaving Doug slack-jawed when he realized he was now in a room-alone-with one of his idols. He cleared his throat awkwardly as he made his way over to the bed, wincing slightly at the icy stare that directed his way. He opened a bottle for her, and held it out.

"Would you care for some water Miranda?" he asked, his hand trembling slightly.

"Not now," Miranda said, not wanting to show her weakness in front of this man.

"Ok," Doug's shoulders slumped slightly as he turned to set the bottle down on the bedside table.

"Douglas," Miranda's voice had turned softer, and he snapped his head around to look at her. Her sharp eyes pierced his for a moment, before she dipped her head slightly and said, "Thank you."

Doug stood there gaping at her. Miranda Priestly just _thanked_ him. _Jesus._ "N-no problem. I was happy to do it," he stuttered, feeling like an idiot.

Thankfully, he was saved by Andrea returning with the doctor. He excused himself, not wanting to intrude on a private moment, and smiled to himself at the grateful look both women shot after him. Andrea immediately went to stand by Miranda's side and dropped her hand on the older woman's forearm in both a protective and comforting manner, mindful of her injured shoulders. The Editor hid a smile at the gesture, and faced the doctor with a neutral expression.

"How are you feeling Miranda?" the doctor, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair asked.

Usually, sentiments like those pissed her off to no end, but she knew that in this case, it was important for the doctor to know. "Fine," she winced slightly when she shrugged her shoulders. "My shoulders are tender, and my palms hurt," she confessed. "There is also a faint throbbing in my head."

"I'll administer some drugs to help with the pain," the doctor said, scribbling on her notepad. "I assume Ms. Sachs has told you your circumstances?" she continued after Miranda nodded her head. "Your palms should close up after a couple weeks-you suffered from deep scratches and scrapes I'm guessing came from being scraped against the concrete street. We had to disinfect them, so the discomfort from that adds to the tenderness you still feel now. Your shoulders should heal in about 4-6 weeks. He really tore your skin with his fingernails, and you have massive bruises I assume come from being pushed to the ground. Your head throbs from the drug he administered, as well as the effects of his grip on your hair-we found some fingerprint bruises on your scalp that we assume came from his forceful hold. There are extensive bruises on your back and legs as well, all of which will heal in time."

Miranda could feel the tension radiate from Andrea's trembling body. Paying no mind to the stabbing pain, she reached her hand over to her forearm and laced her fingers with the young woman's. The journalist, surprised, looked down at her and gave her an unguarded, loving smile that almost blew Miranda's breath away.

"We administered a rape test, and you weren't raped," the doctor said, flipping through her notes, and Andrea let out a sigh of relief. "However, you came very close to it. There are bruises on your breasts from where he gripped you. You're lucky that this young woman found you in time."

"Yes, I am," Miranda replied, still gazing up at Andrea.

"It's sheer luck that I happened to be passing by," Andrea shook her head slightly and her lips turned up into a small smile. "Thank God I did."

"When can I go home?" Miranda asked, not looking away from Andrea's beautiful eyes.

"I'd like you to stay for one more night, but-"

"I would like to leave Doctor," Miranda cut her off. "That's all."

The doctor nodded her head, even though her patient didn't see it, and quietly left the room. Andrea resumed her position on the bed, but sat closer than she had before and raised Miranda's fingers up to press delicate kisses on each tip.

"Andrea," Miranda said shakily.

"I can't even imagine anybody touching you in that manner," Andrea avoided Miranda's gaze as she felt her rage course through her veins. "There is absolutely no justification for what he did. I did some digging-he wasn't fired from his job just because you pursed your lips after that showing. There were a lot of other factors, including his stealing of other people's designs and passing them off as his own." Andrea's hands unconsciously clenched around Miranda's tighter as she got angrier. Her face flushed. "I hate him. I'll kill him-I will kill him for what he did-"

"Andrea," Miranda said sharply, and Andrea jerked her head up like she was kicked. Instantly, she snatched her hand away from Miranda's and started to open her mouth to apologize before the powerful Editor gently closed it with her finger. "Shh, I'm alright. Bruised and battered, but alright. And do you know why?"

Andrea wordlessly shook her head.

"Because _you_ saved me," Miranda reached back out and traced Andrea's profile with her finger. "I need to thank you Andrea. Thank you for saving my life."

Andrea's eyes filled with tears and she leaned in to gently rest her forehead against Miranda's. Neither woman stiffened, nor questioned why. It felt right, and it felt good. No words were needed.

"I'm sorry for leaving you in Paris," Andrea whispered.

"We don't need to talk about this n-"

"I left because you terrified me."

"What?" Miranda jerked back, but Andrea followed her and pressed her forehead back against the Editor's.

"I thought you would toss me aside like you did Nigel if you ever knew about my real feelings," Andrea sighed and bit her lower lip. "I was scared. I'm sorry."

"Oh Andrea," Miranda nuzzled her nose against the young woman's. "Don't apologize. You were right to leave when you did."

"Why?" Andrea closed her eyes at the feeling of Miranda's elegant nose brushing against her own.

"It's not smart to be involved with somebody at the workplace," Miranda snickered softly.

Brown eyes snapped open in shock. "Miranda?" she questioned.

The Editor's response was to lean in and press her lips against the plump ones in front of her own. Andrea let out a blissful sigh, the sound curling itself deep in Miranda's soul. Mindful of the older woman's bruises on her back, Andrea pressed her hands in the pillow behind Miranda's head, and deepened the kiss. The Editor rested her head back on the cushion, and wrapped her arms around the lithe woman's back, avoiding contact with her hands. To an outsider, it would look like an awfully uncomfortable way of kissing, but to them, it was nothing short of perfect.

* * *

Miranda looked around the room with a real smile on her face. A couple months after she had been released from the hospital, an invitation from Donatella had arrived in the mail, inviting her to her yearly Halloween party. It would be the first public function she attended since that night, but she wasn't nervous. Donatella was her friend, and besides, she had Andrea with her now. Andrea, who had deemed herself Miranda's bodyguard for the night. She never let herself stray more than 10 feet from Miranda's side, nor let anybody but herself get the Editor a drink.

Their relationship had blossomed drastically after that day in the hospital. Andrea had taken it upon herself to hire some of the best lawyers to represent Miranda during the trial, and was confident that Nicolas would be imprisoned for a long time. The trial wasn't over yet, but the evidence was sound, and Nicolas didn't have a strong defense case. The press had gone nuts when they caught wind of the lawsuit, and even more so when they realized that the young brunette always captured with the famous Editor was more than a lawyer or representative. The paparazzi had been relentless, following them everywhere. In many of the photos, Andrea had her hand resting discreetly on Miranda's back in a clear sign of comfort and protectiveness. The older woman was thankful for the young woman's strength, and showed her just how much she was grateful when they were away from prying eyes.

The young woman wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist, shaking her out of her musings, and gave her a sweet smile.

"Ready to mingle?" she giggled when Miranda kissed her blackened nose. Her fake whiskers twitched as her cheeks turned up in a grin, and her eyes, darkened with black liner, gave Miranda a smoldering look. The Editor shifted uncomfortably to relieve the sudden wave of desire she felt before leaning in and whispering in her love's ear.

"Yes my pussycat," Miranda stifled a laugh when she saw heat rushing to the young woman's face. "Two can play at that game darling," she murmured.

It was the first year Miranda had attended dressed up for the occasion. She was a black cougar while Andrea was a black cat. She had rolled her eyes when Andrea pointed out the double entendre her costume brought, but finally relented and chuckled along. How fitting. The cougar and the cub.

"You'll be the death of me Priestly," Andrea smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. "I'm glad we decided to go tonight. Dressing up is so much fun!"

"I'm glad you talked me into it darling," Miranda responded and nuzzled the brunette's cheek, not caring if they were in the middle of a private party. "I can't wait to go home and make you…purr."

Andrea pushed her away, laughing. "Smooth talker."

"You love me," Miranda tapped Andrea's nose.

"That I do," Andrea said seriously, gazing into Miranda's blue eyes.

"I love you too Andrea," Miranda smiled and wrapped her girlfriend in her arms.

Andrea kissed the powerful woman on the lips and gave her a loving smile after they broke apart. "Let's go party!"

"Whatever you want dear," Miranda rolled her eyes affectionately and followed her young love into the crowd, her hand firmly clutched in the brunette's.


End file.
